


Firebrand

by CyclonicJet



Series: A Dance of Fire and Flowers [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-07-15 13:56:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16064528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyclonicJet/pseuds/CyclonicJet





	1. Chapter 1

“Again!” he barked. Lyanna ignored the aches forming in her joints and picked herself back up off the floor. She gritted her teeth and growled in response at him. She was tired, more tired than she had ever been. But she didn’t care, all she cared about was hitting the man before her.

She lunged forward with her blade, aiming to strike him across the breast. He moved to counter, but she had only been feigning that attack. She shifted target and took aim to slash down his side instead. He responded by parrying her with almost effortless ease. Then with a flourish he simultaneously struck the sword from her hand and knocked her back into the dirt. “Sloppy!” he said disdainfully. “You telegraph your moves too obviously. Your eyes told me you were going to feign long before your body did. You must learn to hide your emotions and thoughts.”

Lyanna grunted and stood up. She wandered a few paces and retrieved her sword from the grass. They had been at this for hours. As far as she could tell she was no better at swordplay now then she had been that morning, or the day before, or the day before that either.

A full month had now passed since Anavon had left her here under the man’s tutelage. “You need to learn how to wield a blade. Magic will serve you well, but can only take you so far. It would do well for you also to be able to hold your own in a swordfight, should the need ever arise.” he had said.

Lyanna had initially been excited at the prospect. She had always been fascinated by swords and those who wielded them.  Every sword fight she had ever witnessed had seemed like a very elaborate dance in her mind. But the harsh reality was that it was a lot more brutal then she had imagined. Hard knocks and constant bashings had worn her love of the idea down to the proverbial nub. But she would not quit. She had never failed to master anything in her life. She wouldn’t start now.

She retreated to her position opposite her opponent once more. A man by the name of Pestri Garfond. He was a renowned swordsman, an old friend of Anavon’s, and strikingly handsome to boot. Despite being an older gentlemen, he could still have passed for being in the prime of his life. But the thing most people noticed about him immediately was the striking absence of his right hand. A wound that would have ruined the life of any other swordsman had been but a minor inconvenience to Pestri. Yet despite her fascination with it, he refused to tell her under what circumstances he had received such a maiaming. Any time she brought it up he would simply say it had no bearing on why she was here.

But who he was didn’t really matter right now. All that mattered was that he was an opponent, an obstacle. Someone she needed to overcome to get stronger. She took a steadying breath, trying to conquer the angry beast raging inside of her. It wanted nothing more then to charge at him again and hit him. But she knew that would never work, throwing herself against him like that had achieved nothing. She needed a new tack.

Perhaps she could play on a slight weakness she had observed in him. He often gimped on his right leg after a particularly long bout. If she could perhaps wear him down to that point, he might actually present an opportunity for her to strike him. She slowly advanced towards him, edging ever so carefully forwards. She kept her blade between him and her at all times. He simply stood there in a rigid posture, his right arm behind his back and his blade raised ready to meet hers.

He had said that she was too easy to read. So what if she also used that to her advantage. She closed in on him. When she was only two paces away she jabbed towards him. He blocked as she had expected, knocking her sword wide and leaving her exposed. But that is was what she had been planning on. As he made to swing at her with his own blade she ducked under it and moved her blade to take a shot at his now exposed flank.

 In a sudden flurry he hopped back a step before her blade could even reach him. As a result her swing went wild and slashed only the air where he had once been. “Better. But you-” he began but she didn’t give any opportunity to finish his thought, as she immediately re-launched her offensive upon him. He had a slightly disgruntled look on his face, probably from the fact that she had cut him off so abruptly. But she didn’t care. She had a plan, and for it to work she needed to wear him down. That meant constantly attacking.

She continued attempting to strike him. She found herself using the hard experience garnered from there earlier bouts to know how he would move to counter her. She was still no match for him though. Unable to land so much as a glancing blow upon him. But he had been forced back a few paces now, that was something at least.

Tiredness began to cramp her muscles after a time but she forced them to keep going. He would break sooner or later, he couldn’t keep going forever. But as the duel dragged on she became increasingly more pained. It was starting to slow her movements.

Normally she would have fortified her limbs with magic to stop them from becoming pained like this, but Pestri had forbidden it. “You will learn to wield a blade like everyone else, or not at all.” he had said on her first day. She couldn’t see the sense of it. She couldn't imagine a time when she wouldn’t have the ability to use magic, so why not practice as such. But he had been utterly adamant on the point so she had long surrendered making the argument.

Fire now flared in her limbs with each swing. She was losing focus, she could feel it. How much longer could he last before he- There! She spotted it. The slight gimp in his right leg had finally revealed itself again. Taking her chance she pressed hard on his right.

He moved to make a step back, trying to free himself of her assault. But as his right foot touched down his leg buckled slightly, just enough to throw off his sword position. She used that chance to get underneath his blade and jab forward with her own. ‘Finally!’ she thought to herself. But her blade never hit its mark. In a stunning display of speed and dexterity, Pestri launched himself backward into a reverse somersault. Her blade just about nicked him across his robes as he sailed backward.

“A clever ploy.” he said righting himself. “To use my weak right foot to your advantage. It shows that you are thinking, actually observing your opponent. Although your blow may not have landed, you have still managed to impress me.”

Lyanna was only half listening to him. She was fighting hard to quell the rage within her. She had been so close to finally hitting him, but despite all her best efforts she had failed at the very last instant. Pestri’s voice suddenly took on stern tone. “Get a hold of yourself child. Anger ill suits you. I can see it in your eye, hear it on your breath. Look at this not as a failure, but as a success. You have made more progress today than the last week combined.”

She took a deep breath and held it a moment. Then she released it letting the rage drain out of her. Pestri studied her nodding slowly. “Good...good." he said. "The anger that afflicts you is born of pride. We shall work on that too during your stay here.”

“Yes master Garfond.” she said through heavy breaths. She had bested her rage for now, but how many more hits could her pride take before it instead bested her?


	2. Chapter 2

Pestri stood in front of the desk in his study, he was gazing idly out the window. Lyanna stood there watching him, waiting for the lesson to begin. It was dark outside, in the distance she could hear owls hooting into the night.  Without turning to face her he began to speak. “To start with, pride in of itself is not an inherently bad thing. In moderation it can serve to motivate oneself to great effect. The issue here is that you have an overabundance of it. We shall begin working to rectify this.”

Lyanna stared down at the ground and bit her lip. Was she really so arrogant? She had always been confident in herself to be sure, but she had never considered it a bad thing.  “It is not your fault alone.” he continued. “This is as much Anavon’s fault as your own. He has spent many years now raising you onto a pedestal, treating you more like his own child then a student.”

He sighed to himself. “Anavon is dear friend and I respect him deeply, but there is no doubt he has failed you in this regard. I will have words with him next we meet.” Now he turned to face her. “In the meantime though we will begin exercises that will serve to temper your pride.”

“Yes master.” Lyanna said without looking up at him.

“I have a lesson in mind for tomorrow that will perhaps help us in this matter. But for tonight we will begin with a simple teaching. You must understand your faults before you can begin to resolve them.”  He walked behind his desk and opened one of his draws. From within it he extracted a small puzzle box. “This is the tool that will help you to begin understanding yourself better.”

He tossed it across the room to her. She fumbled to catch it, not having expected him to throw it at her. She examined it, turning it over in her hands. It was a small wooden box. Traced on its surface were silvery straight lines intersecting and overlapping each other always meeting each other at ninety degree angles.  “My own grandson once solved that puzzle at no less then the age of five." Pestri continued. "I expect therefore you will have no problem doing so also.”

“No problem...” she said more to herself then anything. Already in her mind she was working through the problem, determining how the box worked. She could see what he was doing, trying to tear her pride down by telling her that a mere child had bested this puzzle. But it would not best her. She took a seat in one of the armchairs littered around the room and set to work.

She began in earnest. Trying to get the intersecting lines of the box to turn, or perhaps make a pattern out of the criss-cross of lines. Each time she thought she was coming close to a solution the puzzle would seemingly shift slightly, so that it became infeasible to solve it the way she had been attempting. Questions and answers flowed from her into and out of the box. Each time she answered something it posed, it only raised a new one in its place. 

Time passed and she felt herself becoming frustrated.  The puzzle didn’t even seem that hard to her. It just stubbornly refused to let her solve it. She began making desperate attempts that had no basis in logic to solve it, turning things that were not designed to turn or moving lines to angles they probably shouldn't be at.

Pestri simply sat in a chair opposite her watching her work. He revealed no emotion, seemingly content to watch her work away at the puzzle box.

Finally after what she had considered a ridiculous attempt to solve it failed, she tossed the cube away to the floor in disgust. “Stupid box!” she yelled. “It can’t be solved. I don’t care what you say!”

Pestri just stared at her passive as ever. He let the moment linger keeping his eye fixed upon her. The he suddenly said “You are correct.”

That caught Lyanna of guard. “What. What do you mean I’m correct?”

“You are correct in saying the puzzle box can not be solved. I lied to you earlier. Also to come completely clean I also don’t have a son, much less a grandson.”

“But then...then why did we go through that whole process!? What was the point!?”

“Tell me. Why did you get angry? Was it your inability to solve the puzzle? Or were you angry that you imagined yourself less capable than a five year old?”

“I got mad because the box wouldn’t open!” she said defiantly. But she knew that wasn’t true. She was angry because it had bested her yes, but she would be lying to herself if her pride hadn’t been wounded to think a five year had been more capable than her.

He smirked at her. “Now you are the one who’s lying.” Pestri stated. “The point of the exercise, to answer your question, was to learn the value of humility.”

“Humility?” she said. She was pulling her temper back under control, letting the rage drain from her as Anavon had taught her.

“Indeed. But more then that it also teaches the value of acceptance.”

“I don’t see how those two things are related.” Lyanna said.

“Lyanna. Learning to accept failure and to accept defeat are as important as anything else you will learn. Perhaps more so. It is crucial to not only learn, but understand and accept that sometimes, no matter how hard you try and work at something you will still fail regardless. That is lesson that lies at the core of the puzzle box.”

Lyanna fell silent. She spent a long moment thinking to herself. She had never faced something like this before. Everything she had ever tried her hand at she had succeeded in accomplishing, and usually fairly quickly too. This was the first time she had ever truly struggled. Maybe there was more to this than her pride...maybe she was being over reliant on her magic after all.  All the challenges in her life up until now had been surmounted using her natural skill and talent with the arcane arts. But not this time. This time it was her and her alone facing it. Was she really so weak? Was her pride really holding her back so greatly?

Pestri watched her, nodding his head as she worked through ideas in her mind. “I can tell you are plagued with questions. Self doubt has begun to creep in where once total assurance stood so solidly. It does well to question oneself child, but not to doubt. Otherwise you will find yourself indecisive, usually at the most crucial of moments.”

She nodded. She was taking what he said on board, it was just a lot to process.

“But now is not the time to ponder on such things.” he said. “It is late and we have an early rise tomorrow. Let the flood of question plaguing you wash away. Head to bed and think no more of them till the sun next crests the horizon.”

“Yes master.” she replied standing up. She turned and bowed to him. “Good night master Garfond.”

“Good night Lyanna.” he responded as she left the room


	3. Chapter 3

An hour had passed since the sun had dragged itself up above the horizon, once more dispelling night and ushering in a new day. It was on this new day that Lyanna found herself standing over an anvil in Pestri’s personal forge.

“Today we shall be leaving our swords sheathed.” Pestri said. “We will instead turn our focus towards redirecting your energies into a more constructive outlet. To that end you will be brandishing the hammer this day, in place of the blade. One cannot truly wield a sword unless they truly understand the weapon itself. And the only way to understand a blade is to forge one.”

 Blacksmithing. It was a task Lyanna had never imagined herself doing. But like any task she would rise to meet it. “Be prepared child." he continued. "This continues not just your education in sword fighting, but also the lessons we began last night. Because I assure you, you will fail. Many times, over and over again. You must be ready to accept that.”

 “I’m ready.” Lyanna said confidently.

 Pestri smiled. “We shall soon determine the truth of that statement. Let us begin!”

The next few hours was an endless stream of instructions, as Pestri slowly guided her through the process of how to turn a lump of unrefined steel into a deadly weapon. He taught her the basics of smelting, how to melt the ore and get the material purity required out of it. Then she learned how to shape and hammer the fledgling blade, how she could mould the liquid metal into a sword and refine its shape. She was taught how to temper the blade, sharpen it, and quench it. All these things and more she spent the full extent of the day learning.

When at last she placed her finished blade upon the workbench the sun had long since set, and the darkness had rolled across the land once again. She hadn’t even noticed the day slip by, so engrossed in her task that she had been. She gazed down upon the fruits of the days labour and was appalled. The chunk of metal before her was a total disgrace as far as she was concerned. A misbegotten abomination. The edges were jagged and rough, the metal was mottled and splotchy with no consistent pattern. The only word she could use to describe it was a disaster.

“Not a bad first blade by all accounts.” Pestri stated. “You have done well to produce a sword of at least this quality. Most first blades can be barely described as a sword at all.” Lyanna continued to stare blankly at the blade. She had followed all the instructions he had given her, but still it had come out this badly. She took a deep breath. There was only one thing for it, she would have to try again. A fire had been lit within her.

Pestri stared at her. “I can see your desire to begin anew is strong. I assure you that we will forge a new blade. But not today. Night has descended upon us and ours beds now beckon. Come, let us eat and turn in for the night. We can resume our work tomorrow.” Lyanna followed him away from the forge, staring blankly off into the darkness. Her mind was racing, processing all that she had learnt that day. She tried not to picture the blade she had forged, it made her angry to think about it. She instead focused on a new sword, one that so far only existed in her mind. But tomorrow she would make it a reality.

* * *

She stared down at the lump of mangled metal with fury in her heart. The misshapen blade before her was somehow even worse than the one she had made the day before! That didn't even seem possible. Pestri leaned down and inspected it more closely. He picked it up and swung it through the air a few times. “As much the same as yesterday.” he said. “No better, no worse. This is to be expected. The skills necessary to forge a blade take time to develop.”

Lyanna was seething. But she hid it deep inside. “Yes master.” she said.

“But there is one improvement that can be noted.” he continued. “The sun still hovers just above the horizon. We have achieved far more quickly today that which we attempted yesterday. That in itself is a triumph.” He turned and raised his hand to his brow, squinting into the fading light. “Alas another day draws to a close. I think it best that we should retire and begin anew on the ‘morrow.” He turned his head to peer at Lyanna out of the corner of his eye.

She was still gazing down at the crude blade she had spent the day building. She was completely lost in thought, once more plotting out all the ways she could improve. He frowned slightly. “Come along Lyanna. We will return in the morning. You can try again then.” he said with a slight sternness entering his voice. That seemed to shock her out of her stupor. “Yes master!” she said fumblingly. “Of course.” As he led them back towards the house, Lyanna couldn't help but stare over her shoulder at the forge. This task would not best her. No matter what.

* * *

As she lay in bed that evening she found herself restless. Questions plagued her. Questions that refused to let her sleep until they were answered. They were the same ones that had plagued her the night before as well. Why was she failing so much? She had never had this much difficulty with anything she had ever attempted before. Was it because she wasn’t using magic? She had never really considered just how reliant on it she was.

Every task Anavon had ever set her, even the ones she didn't require the use of magic, had been conquered using it regardless. But now she was reliant on herself alone. Her body and mind without enhancement, and they were failing her. She found herself clenching her jaw with aggravation. Annoyance with herself and her inability to master this was chewing away at her inside. She knew she had done better than most. But that wasn’t good enough, because she was better than most. Much better. All she needed needed to do now was prove it.

‘No matter what.’ she thought to herself. ‘I just need to keep going. Tomorrow's a new day to start fresh!’ With that thought in mind she suddenly found herself at peace, and soon drifted off to sleep.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Weeks came and went as her education continued. Pestri had begun to alternate her training, to ensure she did not fall behind in either forging or swordplay. Some days would be spent at the forge and others sparring with each other. But as her time spent making blades only ever made her ever more agitated, her time spent duelling actually started becoming fun. It quickly became the undoubted highlights of her weeks.

She was actually making progress with her swordplay. Her muscles were finally beginning to learn how to respond to her commands properly, making her more lithe than before. This also meant her ability to attack and defend had started to improve dramatically too. It was such an improvement that she was now able to to even occasionally land a blow onto Pestri himself. But it always came at great cost, requiring her to exert herself to the point of total exhaustion.

However she was so completely engrossed by the improvements she was making, she failed to notice Pestri’s growing disapproval of the methods she was employing. It was after one particularly long and harsh bout that Pestri seemingly had finally had enough of this behaviour. “Enough!” he stated authoritatively. “This needs to stop! You can not afford to expend yourself like this to achieve victory!”

Lyanna was knelt over herself, hands on her knees, gasping for air. “Who cares...how I win...so long as I do...right?” she stammered through laboured breaths.

“Against an opponent who wasn’t me then yes, perhaps you might have just won that duel. But look what state it has left you in! You can’t fight anymore. In a real fight against anything more than a single opponent you would be as good as dead now!”

“Well...if you just...let me...use magic-” she started.

“NO!” he said sharply, plunging his sword into the ground in front of him. “You must learn to do without magic! You are over reliant on the art. It has made you careless. Reckless even! I promised Anavon I would teach you. But you will do so in my way! In the way I instruct! Am I clear!?”

Lyanna gritted her teeth and swallowed the angry retort that had formed in her mouth. She worked her jaw for a moment before replying. “Yes master.” she said without emotion. “I understand.”

He stared at her for a moment, watching her pull herself back together. He sighed and his face softened slightly. “You have made progress to be sure. You no longer telegraph yourself so obviously and have a much better sense of how to wield your blade. Your technique has also improved substantially.” He paused for a moment and sighed. “But you must learn restraint, to conserve yourself. You must be ready to duel opponent after opponent. Ruining yourself like you did today to try and best me will most certainly get you killed.”

Lyanna having finally caught her breath simply nodded, her eyes fixed on the sword in her hand. “But the most crucial thing you have yet to master is yourself.” he continued. “Your pride is still getting the better of you despite our lessons. Giving into the rage borne of it will only hinder you moving forward. You must move past this Lyanna. Not only to succeed in learning to duel, but to succeed at life in general.”

She turned her head to look at him. “I have been working on it! I-”

“It is pride that dictates your response even now!” he exclaimed. “The mere suggestion that you have failed in someway and you rail against it like an unbroken stallion!”

She held her tongue and stared at the ground, a cavalcade of emotions playing across her face. She knew he was right, but the beast within her wanted nothing more then to reject it and blame him instead. She held that impulse at bay. Mentally whipping herself into doing so, she forced herself to swallow her pride. She felt like she had gagged slightly as she did so. Only once it had gone down completely did she feel comfortable enough to respond. “Yes master. You are right. I will strive to do better.” she said.

“I know you will.” he said. “Undoing the damage Anavon has inadvertently done will take time. But we will ultimately triumph, and best this demon of yours.”

That was a way of looking at it Lyanna hadn’t thought of. To see it as another challenge, something she needed to conquer. If she could crush the beast within her then she would be victorious! She would make the creature within her quiver in fear. She would bring her pride into line, kicking and screaming if necessary. She would now strive to best the hardest opponent she had ever had to face. Herself.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Despite her new found paradigm in which she had framed her pride, it was still proving difficult to keep in check. Taming the beast was proving a challenge every bit as difficult as learning to fight or forge. Each time she gazed upon her finished craft at the end of a forging session, the beast within wanted nothing more then to revile the blade. To call it hideous, to call it a disaster. She had to wrangle it down each time so she could observe the blade with an objective eye.

Pestri seemed to be pleased with her progress, noting constantly how he was impressed with the speed at which she was becoming adept at the art. But ever in the back of her mind the beast continued to criticise. As far as it was concerned she was no better now then when she had started. She had to work hard to drown it out. Some days she won, others she lost. A constant and endless battle was being waged between her reason and pride. It was fought anew with each new blade she forged, each sparring match that ended in yet another defeat to Pestri, and every time her skill or ability was called into question.

The struggle was becoming utterly wearisome on her. It was starting to affect her ability to sleep, and in turn her focus was suffering for it. In there sparring she was always a step slower now than before. In her forging, her hammer blows were always off by the tiniest of margins. However Pestri had not been blind to her suffering. He had watched with concern as her mental state had slowly declined. He had done his best to stem it, offering her encouragement and praise. Often he would call for short siestas to give her time to rest more frequently. But it was becoming clear that a fundamental shift was going on within her. Something profound was happening within her head beyond his ability to truly help much with.

This change within her was at last brought to a head after one particularly bad duelling session. She had been so distracted and unfocused throughout the whole fight that she had been unable to even budge Pestri from his starting position. She had been unable to drive him away or so much as make him move a single step. Bout after bout had ended with her in the dirt and she was finally sick of it. Something within her finally snapped. Had she not been so completely exhausted perhaps she could have reigned herself in. But she was no longer in full control of herself. No longer able to hold back the cumulative pain of the blows dealt upon her physically and mentally. In an instant, an explosive combination of pride and rage took her. The beast finally took control.

She lunged at Pestri, tapping into the flow of magical energy around her as she did so. She didn’t care about the rules, she didn't care about Pestri in that moment. All she cared about was hitting the target in front of her. 

Pestri’s eyes widened as he realised what she was doing. “LYANNA! GET A HOLD OF-!” he started, but was cut short as she moved with a sudden unnatural swiftness towards him. He leapt out the way at the last moment, as her blade swang down towards him. It missed by mere inches. He watched as it sailed through the space he had occupied moments before, and then slam into the ground with ridiculous force. To his shock the blade cracked along its length from the force of the blow, then moments later shattered like glass into a million fragments.

This kind of power was unlike any had ever seen, even other sorceress he had known  could not have matched this level of power. He landed in the dirt and skid back a few inches before reaganing his stance. “RECKLESS!” he bellowed in fury. “TOTALLY AND COMPLETELY RECKLESS!”

Lyanna could hear Pestri in the distant recesses of her mind, but the internal struggle between herself and her pride was dulling her senses to the outside world. She simply stood there, sucking air in between her clenched teeth. Then as the battle within her reached a fevered pitch she felt an incredible pain split open her head. It felt like someone was attempting to crack her skull open. She screamed loudly into the air and dropped her blade. Then she promptly collapsed to her knees in a fit of rampant sobbing.

She did not cry due to the pain of the migraine afflicting her. Nor due to the intense pain coursing through her body. In truth she did not know why she was crying, but it felt like relief beyond measure to do so. So she cried. She barely registered as Pestri came over to her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Nor did she pay much attention as he led her back inside his house. She was completely slave to the despair curdling inside her. Before she knew it was she sobbing into the pillow on her bed. Then not long after she found herself dreaming.

* * *

She awoke to darkness. The sun had long set and only a few flickering candles illuminated the room. Her face was raw from the tears that had poured down it earlier. She groaned and turned to stare at the rest of the room.  It was much the same as ever. The only notable exception was Pestri sitting in the armchair near the foot of the bed. He was sitting quietly reading a book. Without looking up from it he said “Feeling better?”

She didn’t feel like responding. She had failed him in every conceivable way. She had let her pride control her, she had used magic, she had attempted to do him some real physical harm.  It was only through force of will that she managed to muster a response. “Yes master.”  He lowered his book and stared at her over the top of it, he raised an eyebrow. “Anything more substantial you want to inform me of, so I may better understand your exact condition?” he asked.

She stayed silent a moment, gazing up at the ceiling. “My head still hurts, though less then it did. But still enough to cause me pain.”  He nodded thoughtfully. He put his book on the small trestle table next to him and turned his full attention upon her. She could feel his gaze upon her, but he remained silent. He was waiting for her to look at him, she knew it.

Swallowing the fear and sadness welling inside her she propped herself up off the bed, just enough to stare him in the eye. He nodded at her as she met his gaze. He held her gaze for a time. He revealed no emotion within his pupils.  Finally after the long moment had passed he decided to speak. “You have broken my rules Lyanna.” he said plainly.

Lyanna continued to hold herself in check, keeping tears from welling in her eyes. She knew what was coming next. The ultimate humbling experience. The ultimate humiliation. Her first true failure in life. Expulsion. Pestri Garfond was known for being a patient man, but not a forgiving one. Especially when it came to his rules.  "Under normal circumstances I would expel you here and now.” he continued. “You would be on your way out of my house by first light.”

She could feel her spirit breaking inside. How would she explain this to Anavon? How would she ever be able to-

“But I’m not going to.” he finished. Her heart skipped a beat as he said that. 

She was at a loss for words before her brain finally caught up with her. “Master Garfond. I don’t know what to-” she started, but he raised a finger to stop her.

“Before you decide to thank me, allow me to explain why first.” he said. She bit her lip with renewed worry, but she kept her silence. “Firstly. I made a promise to Anavon. I said I would train you to wield to a blade and I intend to come through on that promise.” He paused for a moment before continuing, allowing her consider that fact. “Secondly, and I stress this is the far more crucial factor. You need help. You are at a vital transformative point now. You need someone to help guide you through it. I will do everything within my ability to get you through this.”

He gazed away out the window into the night. “What kind of man would I be to throw you out in your time of greatest need…” he muttered more to himself. He seemed distant all of a sudden, as if he were thinking back on times long gone.  She didn’t know what to say. She inclined her head and simply said “Thank you.”

That seemed to bring him out his reminiscences as he turned back to her and nodded once more at her. “You are welcome.” Then his face suddenly took on a stern look. “But allow me to be perfectly clear Lyanna. If we ever have a similar fiasco as today again. If you ever again willingly or knowingly break my rules. Then I will not hesitate to break my promise and expel you. Is that understood?”

Lyanna nodded. “Yes master. I understand completely.”

“Good. Then we need not talk of it again.” he said. “For now then I want you to get some more rest. Sleep away the weariness that has been beleaguering you and we will start again fresh in the morning. Anything else that needs to be said will keep until then.”  With that he stood and snuffed the candles in the room, picked up his book and retreated to the door. “Sleep well Lyanna. Tomorrow is a new day.” Then he left closing the door behind him.

She gazed at the closed door for a while after he had left. Her mind was blank and empty. She simply stared listlessly into the darkness, focusing on nothing. At some point she simply drifted off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Lyanna awoke to see light shining through the drawn curtains. The sun had risen, and judging by how bright it was outside it must have already been up for some time. That was odd. Pestri never let her sleep in, always awakening her by dawn at the latest.  She got herself up and wandered down stairs to find him. He wasn’t there. She searched each room in turn but could find no trace of him. Walking into the kitchen she found a small meal sitting prepared on the table. A note sat behind it that read ‘Eat and then come outside.’

Strange as this all was, she obliged to the note’s wishes and sat down at the table. Only once she had started eating did she realise how hungry she had been. What started as only small nibbles of the meal ended with her wolfing the whole thing down.  Once she was finished she moved her plate to the washing boards and cleaned it. Then she went outside into the courtyard. Pestri was sat in the centre of it meditating. He had his eyes closed but his body was facing the house itself. At the sound of her approach he held up his hand to her, indicating for her to stop. She obliged.

He then pointed at the ground, indicating for her to sit. She obliged that too. Then once she was sat he returned to his mediation. She sat patiently waiting for him to finish.  She had no idea what he was going to say when he did finish. Would he be mad at her? Would he punish her for what she had done? He had forgone total expulsion, but that didn’t preclude there being any punishment for her actions.  Suddenly Pestri opened his eyes, interrupting the mess of thoughts flowing through her head. “Lyanna.” he said. “I humbly ask for your forgiveness.”

Of all the things she had expected him to say, this was so far from anything she had anticipated she found herself at a loss for words. Then after a moment they they came tumbling out of her in a rush.  “Master? Forgiveness for what? If anything it should be me apologising! I was the one in the wrong. I was the one who-.” He raised his hand again, once more asking for silence. She stopped dead in her tracks and fell silent.

He stared at her for a while before looking down at the ground. “I ask for forgiveness because I have failed you as a teacher Lyanna. I have thought long and hard about yesterday’s incident. And upon self reflection I now recognise the role I inadvertently played in causing that fiasco.”  He looked back up at her. “I fear I have pushed you too hard. I have pushed you to learn too quickly. I did not appreciate the difficulties you faced because of that. That is my fault, and my fault alone. I apologise unreservedly for that.”

Lyanna was having trouble processing this. She had come out here ready to be punished, to be drilled harder then ever. But here Pestri was, apologising to her instead. “I ugh…” she said trailing off. Then she took a deep breath and steadied herself. “Master Garfond. I accept your apology. But only if you will accept mine. I too have failed you. I have been a poor student. I have allowed my pride to get the better of me, and let my anger dictate my actions when it should not. I have been impatient with both you and myself. That is my fault, and I apologise to you now for it.”

Pestri stared into her eyes. “Thank you Lyanna. I accept your apology. And I know that working together, we can both overcome these failings of ours.” Lyanna nodded in response.  They held each other's gaze for a moment longer before Pestri nodded again. “All right then. I think we understand one another a little better now Lyanna. Now we start moving forward again. We can put all this unpleasantness behind us and start anew. Would you agree?”

Lyanna felt relief wash through her as he said that. “Yes master Garfond. I do.”  He smiled in response and moved to stand up. Lyanna followed up after him. “Good. Well then let us tarry no longer. Let us begin today's lesson.” he said with a smile upon his lips.

He suddenly pulled his blade from the sheath at his hip and examined it, his eyes running up and down its length. “When you arrived here, Anavon told me you were an exceptionally gifted young sorceress.” he began. “I have trained many magically adept students in my time, so I paid little heed to it. My rules forbid the use of magic, so you would be no different then the others. You would learn without the use of magic, like all those before you.”

He paused for a moment rotating the blade around in his hand. Then he continued. “...And that would have remained the case, were it not for yesterday's incident. Anavon was right when he said you were no ordinary magic wielder. Yesterday opened my eyes to this truth of this. The blade you broke was reinforced steel, designed for use by magic users like yourself. Yet you managed to shatter as if it were as brittle as glass. No magic user I have ever encountered could have done that, short of using an auraum.”

His eyes moved to look directly at her.  “But you did that with nothing short of your own innate magical ability. While within my school you have trained without magic. But out in the real world I recognise the harsh reality that you will be using magic in tandem with your sword. And it will not serve you to have every blade you wield fail on you in the middle of every duel you must partake in. What we need to do is build you a new blade. One capable of taking your power.”  He returned his focus to his own blade. “And that is what we shall be doing today. We are going to begin the process of designing a blade more suited to you. But to do so will require having to break one of my rules.”  He paused for a second before concluding. “So Lyanna. I hereby grant you the ability to use your magic in your training.”

Lyanna was stunned. “Thank-Thank you master. I promise I will not abuse this kind offer!”

He nodded in response. “Understand I do not grant this lightly. Every student I have ever trained has passed without using magic. I allow you now to do so only in recognition of the reality of the situation. But I urge you not to use it as a crutch. Endeavour to do what you can without it, and use it sparingly. Use it only when you believe it absolutely necessary to accomplish what cannot be done without it.”

Lyanna bowed over herself. “I promise master Garfond. I will strive to use it only when absolutely necessary.”

He seemed pleased with that answer. “Very good Lyanna. Now then. We shall begin by looking at how we can craft a blade more suited to yourself. Are you ready to begin such a task?”

“Yes master!” Lyanna exclaimed. What has started as a weird morning had turned out to be a revelation, a turning point in there relationship and her training. It was time to start looking forward again!


	7. Chapter 7

Lyanna used the back of her hand to wipe away the sweat clinging to her brow. Her arms were sore and her ears were still ringing from her efforts to hammer the steel into shape. But at last she was done. She finished sharpening the blade on the whetstone and held it aloft to the light.  The sun gleamed off it’s surface with a splendour none of the other swords she had yet forged could match. That was due in most part to the composition of the blade then anything else. It was a strange blend of metals, as chosen by Pestri, forming the core of the weapon.

This was now the sixth blade fashioned since the two of them had begun in earnest to construct a sword capable of being truly wielded by her. Each of the previous five had either cracked or shattered when she had really pushed them.  With each new sword Pestri would refine the metals he felt were needed. He had also begun to instruct in her far more advanced techniques, ones he usually reserved exclusively for teaching students of a much older age. But without those teachings the blades thus far produced would have stood absolutely no chance at all against her might.

But Pestri was not the only one refining his methods. Lyanna herself was becoming adept at the art of weaving spells into the blade during the forging process. Pestri had been able to offer some insight based on his own limited knowledge on the field, but being unattuned to the flow of magic meant his understanding only went so far.  Instead Lyanna found herself more reliant on a combination of her own instincts, and her memories of teachings Anavon had instructed her in.

As such each new sword had a slightly more refined set of imbued spells embedded within. She was attempting to narrow her selection, to find the exact spells that would allow the blade to endure her strength. But so far all the ones she had tried had proven unable to do protect the swords she forged from breaking under heaviest blows she could muster.  She hoped though that at last this new sword would be the one she had been seeking for the better part of a month. It was a perfect a blade as she could conceive. The metals inside were tempered as perfectly as far as could be told, and the spells imbued within were as powerful as she could muster short of damaging the blade itself with raw magical energy of the spells themselves.

She took the blade out into the courtyard where Pestri was stood gazing off into the distance. He turned his head to stare at her as she approached. “It is ready then?” he asked calm as ever.

“I think so.” she replied staring down the length of the sword. She really hoped that this one would be different. She was starting to grow disheartened at the idea that she may never be able to truly wield a sword in tandem with her magic.

“You do not know so?” he asked cocking an eyebrow.

She had to be honest, both to him and herself. “No master. I do not.” Each blade she had thus far forged had always had the same answer attached to his first question. An exclamation of utter assurance that it would work. But each time she had been proven wrong. Doubt now nagged at the back of her mind and her pride was no longer able to drown it out.

The beast inside had now itself been whipped into submission by the continual failures. In its place a moroseness had formed that threatened to take her heart instead. Bitter reality was crushing down hard upon her, as if each failed blade was piled upon her back. Each one's weight dragging her down ever further.  Pestri stared at her as she continued to fix her own stare upon the sword. He nodded knowingly. “Well we shall soon know in either case. Let us begin.”

Lyanna took a deep breath to calm her nerves and stepped forward towards him, assuming her duelling stance as she did so. “As always we shall begin first with the preliminary duel, to test the blades balance and regular strength.” Pestri stated.  Lyanna nodded. While she herself had been consumed for near a month now with trying to build herself a new sword, Pestri had not allowed her to neglect her swordplay. Each day had started and ended with at least an hour a piece of duelling.

As such Lyanna had become quite adept at the art now. She was even able to win the occasional bout against Pestri without driving herself to exhaustion. But it still left her very tired and sore, and she still lost significantly more than she won. But it was a small glimmer of hope that Lyanna could at least attach herself too.  They squared off against one another, each ready for the other to act first. As it transpired they both moved at the exact same time, each aiming to take a quick decisive finishing blow against the other. They both instinctively moved to counter the others attack, and instead found themselves trapped in each other's embrace, with there swords locked against one another. 

The brief few moments Lyanna had wielded the sword she could already tell something was different about this one. It felt incredibly lightweight, but she knew from having made it herself that it still held enough mass to duel even the heaviest of swords with ease.  The balance on it was perfectly attuned to her. The way it danced through the air was in equal parts graceful and deadly. It could not have been a more perfect blade for her.  With a swift flourish she ducked her blade under his and in blazingly fast move swished his sword up and out of his hand. It had felt effortlessly easy. It had never been that easy with any previous sword. This blade really was the one. She could feel it.

Pestri was wearing a look of satisfaction on his face. “I can’t remember the last time someone disarmed me so quickly. It’s truly a testament to how in tune you and the blade are with each other. Well done Lyanna.” he said with a slight bow.  Lyanna beamed joyfully at the sword. Her had work had finally paid off! “Now we move on to the vital test.” he continued. Her heart froze slightly, she had near forgotten about this part so lost in her own jubilation. Each blade so far had been unable to endure the use of her magic. But this time was going to be different. She could feel it in her bones.

The test Pestri had devised was a crude yet effective one. A flat topped stone that sat in the corner of the courtyard was what they used to measure the strength of each blade. A nagging fear formed in her stomach as she approached it. Etched upon its top were five different scratch marks  where each prior blade had impacted the surface before breaking on impact.

“When you are ready Lyanna.” Pestri said taking up position to the side and behind her. She positioned herself in front of the rock and took a steadying breath. If a blade she wielded could not endure this test then it would certainly fail her when pushed it hard in a real duel.  She held the handle in both hands and lifted the blade above her. She tilted it over and pointed the tip so it was aimed straight at the rock below. Then she took another breath and tapped into the flow of magic.  Magical energy poured through her as she increased the strength of her limbs substantially. Then with a single smooth motion she plunged the blade straight down into the rock.

The tip penetrated the stone and dove into the flat topped stone like a knife through butter. Cracks laced out from the point of impact on the rock. Lyanna felt a joy more intense than any she could remember feeling. At last she had a blade capable of being her own.  Then a hairline fracture blossomed down the centre line of the blade. Lyanna’s joy turned to horror as she watched the fracture expand outward along the the breath of the sword. Then in an instant it shattered into pieces, raining down on the rock face below.

She stared in shock at the rock and remains of her sword. All her work. All her efforts. It had all just shattered apart on her in an instant. Deep inside her core she felt the last remnants of her hopes at ever succeeding evaporate.  A deep sounding sigh emanated from behind her. “Unfortunate.” Pestri said with a tinge of sadness in his voice. “I really believed we had succeeded this time. But it seems we have little way further yet to go.”

He turned to gaze at the setting sun in the far distance. “But we can begin anew in the morning. After the success of this blade I am sure of it that the next one produced will be the one we have long searched for.”  Lyanna continued to simply gaze absently down at the stone.  Pestri turned back to her. “Lyanna? I know this it is difficult after having come so close but-”

“No.” Lyanna stated flatly, overriding his voice with her own.

“I’m sorry?” Pestri said a little taken aback.

“No.” she repeated. “The next blade will not be better. I have reached the limit of what can be achieved. I know it. That blade was by all rights perfect. But still it could not endure me.”

Pestri studied her a moment. Her gaze was still fixed to the stone. “You know this for certain?”

“I know it.” she said bluntly.

He nodded to himself. “Then what do you propose we do next.”

Lyanna finally turned her head to stare back at him. There were tears rolling down her cheeks. “Next? Next I...I guess I head home.” she said sombrely.

Pestri continued studying her a moment longer before saying. “Perhaps we are best served discussing this on the ‘morrow. We will allow a night's rest to aid us before we make such decisions.”

“No.” Lyanna said perking up and facing him. She started rubbing the tears from her eyes. “I thank you for everything you have done to help me master Garfond. But there is no more that can be done. I will take my leave tomorrow if it is alright with you.”

Pestri stared into her eyes. She could feel him probing deep inside. At length he finally said “If that is your wish Lyanna. I will not force you to stay.”

“Thank you master-” Lyanna started to say, her voice slightly cracking as she held back fresh tears. But Pestri held up his hand to indicate he was not finished yet.

“But no matter what Lyanna.” he continued. “I want you to know despite everything, you have proven yourself an exceptional student. You are driven like few I have ever met. You are hard working and devoted to whatever task you set your mind too. But above it all Lyanna you are a kind and genuine person. Anavon is lucky to have you as student.”

She could no longer hold back the tears. They poured from her eyes as he spoke such praise of her.  He smiled. “But come now. If this to be our last evening together then let us not spend them weeping for bittersweet goodbyes yet to happen. Let us instead spend them jovially. Let us return inside and have a dinner worthy of celebrating all that you have achieved. For indeed you have achieved much in your short time here Lyanna. And that is something to be proud of.”

With that he walked away towards the house. Lyanna took one last painful look at the rock behind her before following after him. Pestri might say had achieved much, and her logic may have agreed with him. But in her heart she could feel only the bitterness and pain of failure.


	8. Chapter 8

Night had long since descended but Lyanna found herself unable to sleep. Her grief was too great, and sadness too deep for it to take her. She instead found herself staring deep into the flames of the flickering candle that lit the room with a dull warm glow.  She had tried everything. Every possible combination that Pestri could have imagined. Not one mixture of materials or set of spells was a match for her raw power. It was a painful truth to swallow. That nothing in the world could match the fierceness she could produce.

The small flame at the tip of the candle danced wildly as it bounced around with the ever changing air pressure around it. She continued to gaze listlessly into it, letting her mind wander far afield. Strange delusions came to her, born of grief and tiredness. They moved and shifted about in the flame ahead of her. Half baked ideas and ridiculous concepts fluttered about in her head. But no matter where her mind wandered, ever before her the flame continued to burn. Something about the way it looked, about the way it moved fascinated her. Such ferocity and power contained in so small a space. Both beautiful and deadly. Just like-

A tantalising, yet fleeting thought bolted through her mind. She suddenly snapped to a greater alertness as she tried to pin it down. The idea was strange and nonsensical, but something about it felt unbelievably right to her. It was a solution to her problem. Despite it bizarreness it seemed strangely simple. The more she considered it the more it made sense to her. In an instant it suddenly felt like it was the obvious answer. As if it was the only correct solution there could had ever possibly been.

But the question now was could she do it? The idea pushed her very abilities in magic and forging to their absolute limit, and probably beyond. If Anavon knew what she was thinking of attempting he’d go absolutely ballistic at her. Of that she had no doubt.  Pestri would equally never approve. If she told him now he would certainly never allow her to try. No. If she was going to attempt this she needed to do it now, right now.

In a sudden flourish, ideas started to take shape in her head, spawning off the core concept that she was still in the process of developing. She needed to act fast before any of them slipped away from her, disappearing into the oblivion of being forgotten.  She launched herself from her chair and sneaked through the house as fast as she could. She kept her feet as light as possible to avoid waking Pestri. Outside the moon was high in the night sky and the world was quiet.

She ran over to the forge house and pulled open the sliding door. For this idea to work she would need fire. A fire more intense than any she had ever induced. A blaze hotter than any she ever experienced.  What she needed was an inferno powerful enough to match her own raw power. She moved over to the bellows and began kindling a tempest.

* * *

Pestri was awoken by the sound of ringing metal. Light flared and dimmed over his closed eyelids. His eyes promptly snapped open to identify the source of this commotion. The light was blazing brightly beyond the drawn curtains. Again the sound of metal striking upon metal reached his ears. What was that girl doing!?

He grabbed his robe and ran from his room straight to the front door. Tearing it open he was greeted by the sight of his work forge engulfed in flames. “What the hell does she thinks she’s doing!?” he said to himself as he ran across the courtyard.  But as he drew closer he noticed something peculiar. Although there were flames jetting out of the open doorway and windows, none of the building was catching alight. The flames were washing over the wooden frames as if were water flowing over them.

Each new sound of striking metal caused the flames to flare and blaze hotter and further out of the forge, before retreating back inwards. As he got within thirty feet of the doorway he was forced to halt. The intense heat emanating from inside was becoming unbearably painful to endure. But still the sound of ringing steel danced out of the doorway. But now he also noticed that mixed in among the clamour and roar of the flames was the sound of someone chanting. A beautiful lyrical chanting that could have only belonged to Lyanna. What was she doing!? How was she even alive!? Just how exactly powerful was this girl!?


	9. Chapter 9

Lyanna timed the blows of her hammer to the rhythm of her song. She was weaving in spells of ineffable complexity into the emerging blade. Each new strike caused gout's of flame and sparks of lightning in equal measure to erupt from the surface of the burgeoning blade.  The intense heat washed over her as if it were nothing. Her magic shielded her from its rage. Even if it hadn’t, she was so engrossed in her task she would have likely failed to notice the heat anyway.

The blade itself was still nothing more than a wreathing mass of barely contained liquid flame. She had managed to force it into a rough outline, but it continually resisted her attempts to mould it into the shape she had visualised within her head.  She had used no metal to forge this sword. It was the raw majesty of fire alone that formed the heart of this blade. But it had not been easy, requiring all her talents to achieve it. All her knowledge of the craft of forging and swords. All of her skill in the art of magic. All of it was being poured into this one sword.

She never stopped to consider what she was doing. She merely acted on instinct. It was instinct that guided her hand, instructing her where to land each blow of the hammer. It was instinct that informed the control she maintained over the barely contained blaze. The blade itself wanted nothing more desperately than to explode apart, to return to the natural chaos that flames loved so much. But she refused to allow it.  She was matching her own will against that of the inferno's, and she was winning. The blade roared a gout of flames directly into her face in a blinding fury, a retaliation to her victory over it. It washed over her like a warm breeze. She would not be so easily cowed.  

Through fierce determination and extraneous efforts the sword slowly began to take shape. She was blinded to all else but the task before her. That of forging fire into steel. It was the only thing in the world that mattered to her right now.  The back edge of the blade twisted slightly, forming a curve along both edges of the forming weapon. She was building a sword designed to be worn at the hip. Long enough so she could wield it with both hands, but short enough so she could also bear it in one.

Time passed as she continued methodically forging the blade. How much she would never be able to truly tell. Her joints felt neither pain nor aches, no trace of tiredness or exhaustion could be found within her. She was utterly entranced in her work. Throughout it all she never stopped singing, her voice never wavering or faltering as she did so.  Slowly her efforts began to bear fruit. The sword beneath her finally started relenting to her will under the pressure of her constant concerted labours. The liquid started to solidify, gradually forming a metal of brilliant flame orange. It was banded down its length by great curved streaks of golden yellow. Despite being now hardened, the colours embedded within still seemed to flow just beneath the surface. As if the fire beneath the exterior metal still breathed and flickered, yearning to be free again.

When at last the final note of her song was sung. The last blow of the hammer struck. And the last of the blaze around her extinguished itself, before her at last sat a fully realised blade. Small flames still licked up and down the the length of the sword, remnants of its forging.  Grabbing it by the hilt she raised it aloft and then thrust it down into the barrel of water next to her. The entire contents vaporised into steam immediately. The barrel itself exploded outwards under the force, showering wooden splinters across the forge house.  With the flames extinguished she again held it aloft and gazed upon her handiwork. The raw tempest of fire raged beneath the metal carapace. At last she held a blade her equal in power. For only fire alone could ever match her ferocity and strength.

* * *

She exited the forge room to find Pestri standing a short distance away. His stance was straight, his arms held behind his back, and eyes intent upon her. The light of day was fast approaching, the sun soon to rise above the distant hill tops. She had apparently worked through the night without realising. His gaze was fixed upon her, staring deep into her eyes. There was no anger within them, but there was something behind his gaze. Something she couldn't quite describe. After a long moment his stare slowly shifted down until it settled upon the newly forged sword in her hand.

After another long moment he simply extended his hand towards her, his palm faced up ready to receive. She crossed the distance between them and held the blade up for him, extending the handle for him to grasp.  The moment his hand made contact he recoiled away with a mighty yowl of pain. He shook his hand violently in the air as if to cool it down. She could see slight tendrils of smoke rising from lightly singed skin along his palm. It looked like he had briefly thrust his hand into a bonfire.

How had that happened? She had long since relinquished her magical guard from the heat and the blade felt as cold as any other she had handled. It had most certainly cooled since she had forged it. So why had it burned Pestri?  He stopped shaking his hand as it cooled back down. But rather then go to tend to his wounds he instead stood back up straight. “Very well then.” he muttered cradling his hand. She could see a gleam in his eye that had not been there before.

“I need you to hold the blade aloft for me Lyanna. Since I apparently can not do so.” he said. “I want to inspect this blade you have crafted before we do anything else.”

 Lyanna balked at this. “But master!” she exclaimed. “Your hand!? You’re cradling it. Please allow me to tend to it before-!”  He held up his damaged hand to her indicating for her to stop, she could see he winced at the pain for having done so. “First I will inspect the sword. Then we can tend to my wound. But only in that order.”

She wanted nothing more then to toss the sword aside and begin to alleviate his pain, but she knew how stubborn he could be. Until she showed him the sword he would not allow her to assist him.  Begrudgingly therefore she obliged, holding the blade up for him to see properly. He looked up and down the length of it, and had her twist it around a few times times for him. He inspected every inch of the blade from every conceivable angle. Once he was done he nodded to himself.

“I see you have gone for a less traditional blade design. I rarely ever see Dao blades outside of the city states.” he said. “But tell me. How does the balance of the sword feel? Is the weight distribution to your liking?”

Despite his efforts to mask it, she could see his hand was starting to blister painfully. “Master please.” she begged. “Just allow me to-”

“Lyanna. Please answer the question.” he said with what seemed a calm tone. She could detect something else buried in his voice though. What that was through she could not say.

She sighed exasperatedly. “It feels fine! Now let me just-”

"How do you know this?” he said, a slight fanaticism entering his voice. “You haven’t even duelled with it yet. How can you know the nature of its balance? No. That answer will not suffice. We must spar forthwith so that we can truly-”

“Enough!” Lyanna exclaimed. “I’m tending to that wound right now.” She dropped the blade from her hand and reached forward. She snatched his hand into hers, so that she had it cupped from below inside her own palm.

He made to retract away from her but she tightened her grip so that he could not. Then she used her other hand to start tracing over the damaged skin, muttering healing spells as she did so.

“I don’t know madness has taken over you master Garfond.” she said scoldingly. “But I will not allow you to remain injured like this.”

She looked up to see the frenzied gleam in his eyes had vanished. It had been replaced with a very tired expression. “My apologies Lyanna.” he muttered apologetically. “I briefly lost control of my faculties there for a moment. I fear that, in a rather ironic twist of fate, my own pride got the better of me for once.”

“Master?” she asked concernedly. “For what reason would your pride have gotten the better of you?” She continued to trace her hand over his palm, slowly working to remedy the blisters.

He stared down at the blade lying in the dirt. “I have never had a blade reject me.” he said solemnly. “To have one do so…” He suddenly trailed off, his eyes transfixed upon the sword. “Forgive me that brief bout of eccentricity Lyanna. It would seem that your own passions have rekindled within me something long dormant...” He again trailed off. He suddenly seemed to realise what he had just said and snapped back to alertness. “But that is in no way your fault. It is my own failing and burden to bear. I assure you I will not allow it to get the better of me again.”

Lyanna didn’t know what to say to that. So instead she simply nodded.  When at last she finished her task, none could have ever told Pestri’s hand had ever even been injured at all. He held up to and examined it. “You truly are remarkable Lyanna.” he said. “I have know magic users who have trained for years and been unable to achieve such healing abilities.”

Lyanna simply shrugged. Healing magic had always been a second nature to her. Nowhere near the great masters of course. But enough that she was considered more than adept. But now that she had healed him, questions she had quelled about what he had said now came to the forefront of her mind once more.

“Master?” she plied.

“Yes Lyanna?” he replied, turning his focus back upon her. His demeanour once more returned to its usual rigidness.

“What did you mean when you said the blade rejected you?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Exactly what I said. The blade objected to me wielding it.”

“Yes. But how can it do that? Swords don’t have wills of their own.”

“For most blades you are correct. But, if a blade is forged with magic then often in the process it can gain a form of semi sentience.”

“But how?” she plied.

“Ahhh.” he said. “Now that is one of the great unknowns of our world. A true mystery if ever there was one. Many scholars have pondered on it, few have ever come to any definitive answer on the matter. The core issue for most who attempt to decipher this particular puzzle is a lack of such blades to study.” He paused to steal a wistful glance at the sword.  “The type of blade you have just fashioned Lyanna is exceptionally rare. The few that are known to exist are either lost to history or hoarded jealousy by those who possess them. As such the study of the field is somewhat of a near impossibility.”

Lyanna took a moment to ponder this. As she did so she retrieved the blade from the ground. Not a mark was upon it, nor a single trace of dirt. “But the other blades I forged also included the use of magic. None of them behaved as such?” she said staring down at the sword.

“There is a clear distinction and a wide gulf of difference between a blade forged with the aid of magic, and a blade made using magic.” he said. “It is important to be able to distinguish between the two.”

Lyanna again thought on this. Her silence stretched out for a awhile. Eventually Petri broke the silence. “I’m sure you have many questions and more. I myself have a few I would ply you with. But we can discuss them later. First we must trial this particular blade. We must perform the test.” He nodded his head towards the flat topped stone at the other side of the courtyard.  Lyanna knew he was right. It was time to test the sword.

* * *

The blade plunged down through the stone as if it had encountered no resistance at all. A perfect smooth scar was endowed into the stone at the point the blade had sunk itself inside. Her heart leapt for joy. As it did so the blade promptly burst into flame. Gout's of fire jetted up from the tip still buried in the rock, searing the stone around it. Lyanna yelped and released the sword, the flames dying away the moment she did.

“Curious…” Petri muttered behind her. “Most curious indeed. If I didn't know any better I’d say the sword was reacting to your emotional state.”

“My emotional state? You mean it’s going to burst into flame every time I have any kind of intense emotion!?” she cried.

“Possibly…” he said. “I do not know enough about the blade to say for sure. Perhaps with time, as you become more accustomed to bearing it you will be able to exert a greater control over it.”

“In the meantime however I would strongly advise exercising discipline while wielding it. Strong emotional control may be needed until you and the blade form a deeper connection with one another.”  Lyanna stared at the sword. She had felt ‘something’ emanating from the sword when it had burst into flame. It was certainly a weapon of many passions. Something was definitely ‘alive’ within it. Of that she was certain.  Pestri was silent a moment before speaking again. “Well. It would seem the blade is nearly complete now Lyanna. Only one thing yet remains.”

What could she possibly have missed? She still needed a scabbard, but that was something she could work on later. What did he mean?  The look of confusion on her face made Pestri break a into a short chuckle. “A name Lyanna.” he said. “The blade needs a name.”  She hadn’t considered that. She had never named any of her other works, but then again none of them had lasted long enough to ever receive one. She gazed back at the sword. What possible name could she use for it?

She pondered to herself. Names came and went through her head but none of them felt right. Suddenly a memory floated back to her. A memory she hadn’t even even know she possessed.  She was young. Very young. Even Anavon was a distant future yet to happen for her at this point. She was...she couldn’t remember where. A women was leaning over her and people were whispering in the background. The women was talking to her alone though.  “...accomplish great things. I know it.” she said. “So much spirit packed into one so small. It’s almost hard to believe.” Lyanna had no idea who this person was. What was this memory?  “Now go to sleep and let not the night scare you.” she continued. “Goodnight my little…”

“Firebrand.” Lyanna whispered to herself. The memory dissolved away and disappeared beyond her ability to recall. It swiftly vanished from every corner of her mind, leaving her with nothing but the name itself.

“I’m sorry Lyanna.” Pestri said. “I didn’t catch that.”  She was too lost in thought to respond. What had just happened. She tried to recall, but nothing came to her. She had no idea where the word now swimming around her head had come from, but wherever it had come from maybe didn't matter. It was the perfect name for the blade.

She reached back down and grasped the sword. Pulling it free from the stone she held it above her and looking at it said “Firebrand. That is your name.” The blade shivered in her hand at that. It had accepted the name. She could feel it.

“A most interesting choice. And well suited too I would say.” he said. Slowly nodding to himself he said in a low voice. “A fine choice indeed.”

Lyanna lowered her gaze to Pestri. “What now?” she asked.  He grinned. “Now? Now you’re training is complete Lyanna. You could spend another ten years with me and become only fractionally more skilled than you are now. No. I can no longer mentor you to any significant improvement. Now the world must itself must be your teacher. It alone can teach you what you must now learn.”

In a sudden motion he bowed over himself to her. “Lyanna. It has a been a pleasure to teach you. I know you will accomplish many great things.”  Something inside of her twinged at that last part, but she didn’t know what. Unable to identify what had caused it she shrugged it off. She now in turn bowed over herself to him. “Master Garfond. Despite all the hardships I am truly thankful for your tutelage. I will never forget these last few months. You have been a mentor without compare. Thank you.”

They stood there bowing to each for a long moment before rising back up to face one another. After another short moment Pestri broke into a smile. “Well then. I believe I should begin penning a letter.” he said.  “I am thinking perhaps we should invite Anavon here to celebrate the ending of your training. Plus I never know when I’ll have a chance to see him next. That man is always so hard to pin down.” he said more to himself then anything.

“But the journey here could take him the better part of a week!?” Lyanna exclaimed.  Pestri smiled again at her. “Indeed. So I suggest we use the time it will take him to arrive to our advantage. I believe Firebrand still requires a sheath? I think that sounds like a task I would most enjoy.”

“As for you.” he continued. “You and the blade should acquaint yourselves more thoroughly. If you going to spend your life paired with it then it stands that you should start forming a good bond with it now.”

“Yes master. That sounds like an excellent idea.” Lyanna said whirling Firebrand around wistfully through the air. As she stared down upon the blade of forged fire, she felt no great pride at her accomplishment. Rather she felt humbled by it. Perhaps, at long last, she had finally solved the unsolvable puzzle box.


End file.
